


The Codex Umbra Is

by CravenWyvern



Series: DS Extras [2]
Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: (In which I disregard canon times and just place Maxwell and Charlie in the middle of the 1900s), Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Deleted second chapter, Doesn't get explicit or anything, Gen, Hallucinations, THEM (Don't Starve), The Codex Umbra is powerful, headcanon building, mafia involvement, transgender character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 13:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10219688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CravenWyvern/pseuds/CravenWyvern
Summary: People spread rumors. It's what they do, and usually it doesn't cause problems.But it's not a good idea involving yourself with a shady mafia when some rumors can be used against you.





	

“You really think you coulda’ gotten away with this pal?”

A rough shove, stumble back a step or so, hands tight around the book and pressed against his chest, switching his gaze between the two men. He didn't know them, didn't recognize them, but that didn't mean they didn't know him. They stepped forward, facial features darkened by the buildings on either side, and he took two steps back, knowing he needed to find a way out, knowing that the only way was beyond the men, knowing a brick wall was just behind him. The alley was a trap, and he had walked right into it.

“Did ya really think we haven’t dealt with people like you before? Runnin’ outta town like that, and here we had thought you were a goody two shoes.”

One of them tsked, tall and big, a human wall that stared at his hunched form. William was not a small man, but he felt dwarfed by these two and they knew it.

He was starting to realize why they were accosting him.

“I-I swear, I w-was going to p-pay, just a, a little longer-“

“And what, wait for ya to disappear again? It took us quite awhile to find you and your lady friend.”

They saw the look on his face, saw his lapse in expression, and the shorter one laughed, a deep bellied sound.

“Don' worry; you're the one owing money. We have no beef with her.”

And then they seemed done with talking, done with the chit chat, and they moved, slow easy steps, unfazed and unhurried, as if they knew what they were doing, as if they've done it many times before, and William tried to stay back, tried to keep distance between them, but then his back hit the wall. 

The tall one snatched the book out of his arms, rough and too quick and he tried to follow but the other man was there, a fist raised and the blow was unexpected. His head cracked against the brick behind him, sent stars across his vision, glasses skewed on his face, but he held himself up, dazed and blinking to get his sight back as the two men chattered without any worry or haste.

“What's he doing with this?”

“It's part of the act, you know, the whole ‘magic’ shit. A prop, though if ya want it I don't care.”

The tall man turned the book in his hands, flipped it open and skimmed the pages.

“Damn things empty.”

“That's the point, dumbass.”

With that the book was tossed, William trying to follow the arc but losing it in the darkness and his own dizziness, and with a sick feeling in his gut the two men turned to him once more. The one in front of him leaned forward, snatched up his glasses and William could only squint at him, his head still swimming. Before anything else could happen, the taller man laid a hand on his partners shoulder.

“You remember what boss was saying, about ‘im? All those rumors an all?”

The one with his glasses paused, really looked at him and William had a very bad feeling about this, queasy both because of the blow and his own anxiety, not liking the fact he could hardly see anymore, fuzzy shapes bundled together in front of him and the darkness of the setting sun and shadows of the alley made everything that much worse.

“Didn’ think they had much weight, but now that I'm lookin’ at him…”

William bolted.

Or tried to, tried to use surprise to get away, tried to plow past them, but they have done this multiple times. How many people, who borrowed and didn't pay up, tried to run away when confronted?

Too many to count, and William was no different, besides one thing that both men suddenly concluded.

“Sweetheart, ya shoulda’ said somethin’ before I decked you like that.”

He was bundled up, restrained, back against the taller man and arms pressed down, facing the shorter man twirling his glasses. He was breathing harshly, hyperventilating, trembling and trying not to think, trying not to process this, hoping this was not happening, this was just a dream, just a nightmare-

“An’ now that's gonna bruise. Sorry about that, but ya shouldn't be doin’ business if you're not gonna hold your end of the deal.”

The shorter man fiddled with his glasses for a moment, then pocketed them, taking a step closer to look at William carefully. The expression was unclear, his bad eyesight blurring everything, but even he could see the sudden white of teeth and the smile that sent shivers up his back.

“Ya know sweetheart, boss really wanted you dead, but I think I gotta better idea, right?”

The taller man restraining him nodded, actually /laughed/, tightened his grip on him, and William was trying so, so hard to not think about this, to not truly believe this was happing, it couldn't be happening, it was just a nightmare-

“Now, if ya really wanna play dress up and go pretend with your friend, that's fine by me. But ya hafta understand, borrowing that much money and not coming clean like ya did? Very irresponsible, not at all what I'd expect from a young lady like you.”

This was not happening, this was not happening, this was not-

The man moved closer, as if he's done this a million times, as if the both of them had done this a million times before, and the thought terrified him, a sudden break, and his heart was pounding hard in his chest, harsh wheezing because no no no no no no no-

“Now that is unnecessary, don't be crying sweetheart. If ya don’t struggle, it won't be all that bad.”

A hand on his face, on his chin, moving his face this way and that to get a good look and they pulled back and-

And there were hands on his hips, there were hands on him, no no no no, don't touch me don't touch me let me go let me go no no no no NO stop it stop it stop stop STOP-

And there was something, something else, eldritch and big and powerful and /angry/ and the snap of it, the pull was heavy and sharp and was of shadow and rot and tar and William found himself curled up on the ground as. They. Screamed.

The sound was too much, everything too much, this slimy thing in his head and breathing outside, around and covering the alley, pulsing slick skin and he felt it, felt the tugging strand as it /consumed/, as too many teeth suddenly snapped together in a horrendous sound and too many tongues withered about and tasted smoke and ash and sweat and musk and it chocked, a sudden thrum and vibration and then it was a flailing thing, that clawed up his throat and was digging into him, tearing at his head and drilling down down down down-

And then it was gone, and William was alone.

It took a few minutes, of stuttered breathing and wiping his wet eyes and feeling the blood on the back of his head but not actually feeling anything at all. The taste in his mouth, of smoke and bone and char, was hard to swallow, a thick mucus coating his tongue and clogging his throat, and his nose bled for a few minutes more, an aching, swollen feeling in his jaw and a headache pounding behind his eyes.

When he shakily stood up, off balance and light headed, the book /pulled/ him, /called/ him, and when he bent to pick it up, its dark, thick penned pages withering like worms and reaching like too many arms and too many fingers, William held it close, pressed tightly against his chest. It whispered, incomprehensible and gasping gibberish as he shivered and willed himself to not start crying again, to keep himself standing and not collapse into a mess on the filthy floor.

After a moment, having gathered himself, William searched around and found his glasses, neat and unharmed. He kept his gaze on the ground, not daring to look at the moist, breathing walls of the alley, not wanting to see any of the tendrils sprouting from the gummy pink cracks waving blindly in the air or how the sky shifted in a vortex of unknown, impossible colors and sounds and eyes that watched him, followed him out into the mostly empty street, the red dusk of evening and slow nightfall blocking everything out.

When he got back, to that cheap, dirty hotel, the things still there, still clinging to him and him to the book, William didn’t have the energy to deal with Charlie. He made a beeline to the bathroom, ignored her and her questions and worries, and he stayed there for awhile, book like a lifeline and hands tight on it, pressing it as close as he could against him, curled over it protectively and trying to keep his eyes open, to stare at the throbbing mess of flesh that had been the opposite wall as it pulsed in a stuttered heartbeat and oozed slime and bodily fluids to pool under it. The eye in the window watched him, bloodshot and jaundiced, and it whispered almost comfortingly, soothingly, and when William woke up the next morning it was gone.

Charlie was understandably worried, but she did not press the past days events when William asked her not to.

They didn't show that night, cemented by his injury and Charlie's suspicious, hesitant treatment of it, and William kept the book with him at all times. He was thankful that she didn't ask, and hoped that she knew that he appreciated her discretion.

But after that, William pressed for them to move cities once more, to start fresh elsewhere; she believed his excuse of ‘not liking the air here’, and though she didn't seem to want to leave she raised no arguments. There were no more problems afterwards, packing their few belongings and going, hitching rides where they could, and William breathed a lot freer once they were past the cities outskirts.

The throbbing, moist pink thing with its yellowed pulpy eyes did not follow him.


End file.
